Nine Christmases
by Goddess Isa
Summary: Over several years, Veronica doesn't think about Logan at Christmastime at all. Not at all.


2007

Veronica doesn't really want to come home for Christmas. She's claiming her work study job is keeping her busy and she can maybe work at the coffee shop near campus some evenings for extra money. The tips are better this time of year, right? She gives her father these excuses on at least three phone calls, including the Thanksgiving Day one because campus is _so busy_ and they needed volunteers to work the weekend. Keith isn't stupid—he can tell she's lying. But he figures she must have a decent reason so he excuses her Thanksgiving Day absence. He goes to a Denny's with Cliff and then a bar and they both pass out in Keith's living room, drunk and pathetic in their loneliness.

So he guilts his only daughter into coming home for Christmas. He tells her to come on the 23rd and go back to "school" on the 26th. He suspects she'll be the only person on campus but he plays along so she'll come home and so he doesn't have to eat Christmas dinner at Denny's. Their eggnog comes in a can and smells like drain cleaner.

None of the decorations are up when Veronica gets home so she busies herself with that. She cleans and she bakes and Christmas Eve morning she takes cookies to Wallace's family. Mac is out of town with her folks so she emails her a photo of the cookies she's missing out on.

Christmas Day, Veronica is making mashed potatoes when she notices a present in the pantry. The large box was shipped to her at Stanford and when she saw the return address, she wrote RETURN TO SENDER and dropped it on the OUTGOING mail cart in the office. She notices that her school address has been crossed out and her home address written above it. Keith is watching _It's a Wonderful Life_ so she decides to yell at him for not burning the box from Logan the next morning before leaving. Why ruin their Christmas?

* * *

2008

Try as she might to avoid it, Veronica had to take an extra semester of classes when she officially changed to a pre-law major. Her father beams with pride on Christmas Eve when she tells him this news, that she plans on corporate law because that's where the big bucks are.

There's another box from Logan in the pantry this year, on top of the one from the year before. When Veronica had questioned her dad about it, he told her that it was her box and if she didn't want it, she could get rid of it herself. She hadn't had a lot of time and figured her dad would throw it out eventually. Only he hadn't and now there were two boxes mocking her. She slammed the pantry door shut and added extra hot fudge to her ice cream sundae.

"Corporate law, V?" Wallace looks surprised. It's two days later and they're catching up in her kitchen since Wallace spent Christmas in Chicago with his dad, stepmom and new baby sister. "I don't know, I would've pictured you in family court, or maybe as a district attorney? Helping the helpless? Taking down the bad guys by the books?"

She shakes her head, setting a mug of hot cocoa in front of each of them. "I'm not gonna put myself two hundred grand in debt for a low-paying job with a small success rate."

Wallace watches her go on and on, wondering why she's being so stubborn. He can picture Veronica Mars a lot of places, but defending people like Phillip-Morris isn't one of them.

* * *

2009

Veronica volunteers to work during the holidays at her law-clerk job, where everyone wears expensive suits and defends grocery stores who don't clean up spills fast enough to prevent the elderly from falling and breaking a hip. That's not the kind of law she wants to practice exactly, but she likes what she's learning and is sure there must be companies that are actually innocent when they get sued. Those are the kind she tells herself she'll represent.

Veronica thinks she's bypassed Christmas in Neptune this year, but at six pm on the 23rd, a senior partner gets a guilty conscience over missing his kids' school play and just like that, the office is closed and she's driving home to see her dad.

She finds the apartment a mess when she arrives at three in the morning, boxes everywhere and a pile of presents, some unwrapped, on the floor where the tree would be.

"You're moving," Veronica says in disbelief when her dad stumbles out of his room, half-asleep in sweats instead of the corny one-piece Christmas pjs he usually wears.

"2009 was a very good year," he pours some coffee and Veronica realizes he turned the machine on when she called hours ago to tell him she was coming. He really wasn't expecting her and she wishes she'd stayed behind.

"You didn't think you needed to tell me about all this? What if I was planning to live here this summer?"

Keith pulls an iPhone out of his pocket and Veronica thinks, _Damn, he did have a good year_.

"Look at this," he shows her a few photos of a nice ranch-style house with stained glass windows by the front door. "What do you think?"

She takes the phone from him and scrolls through the photos. The house is beautiful but it doesn't look like _home_.

"Your room is huge," Keith says when she doesn't say anything.

Veronica nods, hands him the phone back. She pours coffee with her back to him, trying not to cry. She's not sure why she cares that he's moving on with his life, without consulting her, since she's tried so hard to have a life as far away from Neptune as possible.

"I'll help you pack," she finally says. "I have a few days off."

Neither of them feels like sleeping so they flip through the holiday-themed television and both fall asleep a few different times in the living room. Around eight am, Veronica wakes up and sees that her dad has gone back to bed and thrown a blanket over her. She shakes it off and takes a shower so she can cry in private. Hair in a messy bun, an ugly Christmas tee shirt on with her jeans, Veronica goes in the kitchen to make cookies and sees that it's literally bare. Her dad has barely any groceries, but there's a slice of circumspect looking pizza and a few take out containers in the fridge. She grabs her purse, scribbles him a note and heads to the grocery store to battle all the other last minute shoppers.

Grumbling husbands, crying children, frazzled housewives, Albertsons is a zoo. Veronica has to follow a departing husband to the parking lot to secure a cart. She immediately puts bananas and apples in it to try and stake her claim from the women who, one hand already on the cart, ask not-so-innocently, "is this your cart?"

An hour later, the cart is full, Veronica is tired and her hip is bruised from all the carts people plowed into her while rushing to get the last pumpkin pie. There are two numbers ahead of her at the deli and then she can leave. With her dad's place in shambles, she's decided to only make the chicken, mashed potatoes and green beans from scratch. Bagged salad, canned carrots and ready-to-eat coleslaw will have to do.

Pickings from the deli are slim, so Veronica gets two different pasta salads and mac and cheese to round out their menu. The bonus is that she can take the leftovers back to school with her. She gets so tired of ramen and Easy Mac.

"Eeny, meeny, miny, moe," Veronica mumbles as she picks a checkout lane. They're all equally long and everyone's cart is loaded to the gills. She settles with a People magazine to occupy her time when she hears it.

The voice she's avoided for two and a half years.

"I'll pay for your groceries if I can go ahead of you," he says.

Veronica abandons the latest escapades of the Kardashians to look at Logan.

He's in sweats—which don't suit him—and holding a basket full of booze in one hand and waving around a few Benjamins in the other.

"I'm in a hurry," he adds to the woman he's trying to bribe.

"And I'm not?" Someone else in the line shouts. "This is supposed to be in the oven already."

Veronica watches Logan navigate through the throngs of people, one trying to take the money without giving up her coveted spot in line. It's not until he reaches her lane that he sees her.

"Veronica?" He blinks like she might be a mirage.

She allows herself to study him for a minute. His cheeks are rounder than the last time she saw him and he has dark circles under his eyes. He looks sad and hopeful at the same time. His hair looks like he just rolled out of bed and dammit, she wants to run her hand through it.

Logan Echolls, bane of her existence, love of her life.

"You look amazing," he says after a minute, and she can no longer do this. She abandons her cart full of necessities and leaves him standing there without saying a word.

Veronica can't bring herself to go to Walmart on Christmas Eve so they eat Chinese food and watch movies, not talking. Christmas Day is spent packing. There are still clothes Lianne left behind in the closet. As Veronica stuffs them in a garbage bag for donations, she grows angry. At her mom for leaving, at her dad for moving, at her boss for closing the office. Mostly she's mad at Logan for going to Albertsons to get drunk alone on Christmas. When Veronica tackles the linen closet, she finds the two previous years' Christmas gifts from Logan and a new one that must be from this year. He's stopped sending them to her dorm now and must've dropped this one off in person. This box is wrapped rather than a pre-printed shipping box, and the gift tag has only her first name in Logan's loopy handwriting.

"There are birthday gifts too," Keith says, and Veronica turns around to look at him.

"They're on a higher shelf, I think. Guess you can throw them out for yourself now. Though I think a pawn shop is a better option," he shrugs. "More environmental."

"Ha ha ha. Why did you keep these?"

Keith shrugged. "They're yours, not mine."

"I told you I didn't want them," she stands up and brushes invisible dirt off her butt. "I've moved on." _And I'll probably be moving across the country_, she thinks, but she doesn't tell him that. Not on Christmas.

"Logan has grown up a lot," Keith tells her.

"I don't think a grown-up carries a basket of booze around Albertsons on Christmas Eve, bribing housewives for their place in line."

Keith scratches his head and sighs. "Veronica, Logan has been dealt a shitty hand. He's doing his best to pull himself out of the hole he was put in. If he wants to get plowed, all alone in his house on Christmas, I'd say that's his prerogative."

His house? He has a house? Veronica has so many questions but she refuses to ask. Instead she starts tossing towels into an empty box by her feet. "I'll put these out for the trash before I go on Monday," she says, gesturing to the gifts.

Keith nods and walks away. They both know she's full of shit.

* * *

2010

Veronica can't get out of Christmas this year because she's graduating in two weeks. The law firm is shut down again and she's moving out of the dorm and into her dad's house. It's not _her_ house, it'll never be _hers_. It feels foreign, almost like staying in a hotel. Her mind briefly drifts to when a hotel actually felt like home, but she ignores it and continues to carry stuff into her dad's house.

He's off chasing some drunk who escaped police custody so she has the place to herself. She plays loud music—Christmas at first, but then when she's too depressed for jingling bells, she switches to Sarah McLachlan. Whining about breakups and broken hearts, she slowly fills the shelves in her room—she has to keep telling herself it's her room—with her books and photos. Some lyrics hit a little too close to home. The first-year law student she was dating had dumped her on Black Friday, not surprisingly for the second-year who bossed them all around and didn't wear a bra. She was hoping to snag an internship at a law firm closer to Neptune but if not, she would just work at the new Kohl's until she moved to New York in August.

August. Eight months away. That was a long time to try and ignore Logan.

She'd only seen him once since last Christmas Eve at Albertsons. She'd been surprised to see him stride across the stage at Wallace and Mac's graduation, finishing with honors no less. She'd never asked any questions, but her dad had mentioned he'd gotten his degree in architecture. Veronica didn't know what to make of that, though the image of Logan dressed in work clothes, leaning over a drafting table _did_ turn her on.

Truth be told, most images of Logan turned her on, but she ignored that fact ninety percent of the time.

The doorbell rings and, expecting Wallace, as they have plans, she throws the door open.

Logan is standing there, gifts in hand.

"Your dad said you weren't coming home until Monday," he finally said after they'd stared at each other for a minute.

"Change of plans. What are you doing here?"

"It's Christmas. I brought you guys presents."

"You're welcome to leave the one for my dad."

"You don't wanna know what yours is?" He almost smirked at her. He knew how she was about secrets.

"I don't," she said without any conviction in her voice. "I'll tell my dad you stopped by."

Logan handed her the gifts and she took only the one wrapped in plaid paper—that had to be her dad's—and shut the door. It didn't surprise her at all when Wallace showed up and handed her the other gift from Logan.

"It was on the porch," he explained, but she'd already known that.

* * *

2011

Veronica really wasn't going home for Christmas. Finally, she could avoid Neptune. She was exhausted and broke and her dad was coming to visit her in the city, _with his new girlfriend_. Addie, her name was. She was too young and too dumb for her dad, she already knew this. No self-respecting girl had a baking blog as a _job_.

Columbia was kicking her ass. Veronica lived in a closet apartment—literally—with shared bathrooms and one kitchenette per floor. It made her miss the dorms at Stanford, but it meant her father and Addie were staying in a hotel. Win some, lose some.

She sat on her bed/couch and ate a banana, wondering if she should bail on their sightseeing plans. She wasn't really feeling social or touristy. She was feeling bitchy and needed chocolate.

Her desire for a Snickers won out and she ran down to the bodega next door to get one. She stopped dead when she saw who was talking to the clerk through the glass.

Logan Fucking Echolls, bundled up for the cold, half his face covered by his coat's collar, his hair hidden by a ski cap.

And yet she knew it was him. The voice, the chocolate colored eyes, the way he flirted with the clerk to get what he wanted.

He took his change and what looked like a few stacks of scratch-off lottery tickets from the hole in the window and waved at the clerk before leaving. Veronica decided she didn't want chocolate anymore, she wanted to know what Logan was doing in New York.

She hadn't worked a case in years but she could still blend in and hide in a crowd. No one notices a short girl, even one in a zero-degree-protection parka.

She followed Logan to a church—a church!—and watched him enter. The door stayed open behind him as others filed in, so Veronica pulled her hat down and joined them.

The lobby of the church was bustling with people. There were tables for signing up for things and dropping things off. Veronica pretended to read a list of things needed for donations—she thought it was sad that they had to ask for tampon donations—and kept an eye on Logan. He shook the hand of the man obviously in charge and handed him the stacks of tickets and another, puffy envelope. The man, pastor, priest, whatever he was, hugged Logan, tears in his eyes. He brought Logan over to some other people, slapping him on the back as he introduced him. Veronica ducked back outside to wait for him, unsure if she was relieved or annoyed that he went into the church to do something nice instead of to pray for forgiveness.

She's waiting in the snowy bushes outside the church for Logan when her dad texts asking where she is?

She texts that she'll meet them at Radio City that evening—her dad is taking them to see the Rockettes because Addie has always wanted to go—and gives him no other explanation.

Veronica freezes for over an hour before Logan exits the church. She ducks down and hears him chuckling a few minutes later.

"Surprised I didn't catch on fire when I walked in, Ronnie?"

The shivers going up and down Veronica's spine make her even colder. She stands up and glares at him. "What makes you think I'm here because of you?"

"You only visit a church when it's for a case, and I hear you don't do that anymore."

"From who?!" She can't keep the incredulity out of her voice.

He grins and she wants to beat the shit out of him. Maybe screw the shit out of him, it's complicated.

"Why do you care?" Logan finally asks her. "You left, right?"

She doesn't have a comeback so she stalks away, snow crunching under her feet. He watches her go and wonders what she did with his gift this year.

* * *

2012

Another Christmas in Neptune. Addie has dumped Keith, and that was the only thing Veronica was thankful for as she ate cold pizza on her bed/couch for Thanksgiving dinner.

Stuck without a work excuse to stay in New York, Veronica goes "home" and cooks in a kitchen where she can't find anything. She burns the yams and neither her dad or Cliff—who is also recently dumped and her dad feels bad for—says anything. They watch movies she doesn't pay attention to and when her dad works on the twenty-sixth, she searches the house. Logan's presents _have_ to be somewhere. She has the one from last year in her suitcase. She couldn't bring herself to open it anymore than she could throw it away.

They're in the closet in "her" room, four Christmas gifts and a few birthday gifts as well. Veronica adds last year's to the pile before going to the kitchen for a drink. She's lonelier than the protagonist in a Hallmark movie and she'd prefer to just drink her feelings away.

She does just that, and is puking her guts out the next morning when her dad stands in the bathroom doorway, arms folded, a judgemental look mixed with a smirk on his face.

"What?"

"I thought you liked looking down on the 09ers, not emulating them."

She had to puke again or she might have flipped him off.

"I have a VIP client coming by the house this afternoon for privacy. Are you still gonna be praying to the porcelain gods? I'd hate to have to reschedule."

She managed to give him the finger in between puking and heaving. "Have your damn meeting. I can hurl quietly."

When she finally stops throwing up, Veronica showers. She makes the water ice cold to sober up and then dives under the covers on her pull-out couch, shivering. She would love some coffee but doesn't want to move. She hears the doorbell and some talking but can't make anything out until the "client" goes to the bathroom. He talks to Keith about a fish or something as he walks back down the hall and Veronica curses.

Logan.

What the fuck does he need a private investigator for?!

Dying to go out and ask, she won't let herself. Veronica stays under the pile of blankets, wishing she knew what Logan was up to, and wishing that she didn't care.

* * *

2013

Veronica's law school schedule keeps her away from Neptune and she's thrilled. Her dad will be there before New Year's, things are serious with his new girlfriend and he's meeting her family over the holidays.

She has traded her closet for a one-room apartment that has its own sink and toilet as well as a fridge that holds more than six bottles of water. Logan's gift this year is a very thin envelope. Had they been married, Veronica would've assumed it was divorce papers.

It goes in a drawer with his birthday gift from that year and she forgets all about it until Christmas Eve. Logan is in the Starbucks she goes to, and she can't help herself. She's pissy and PMSing and she just goes off on him.

"Are you stalking me?" She slams her peppermint mocha on the table so hard, his tablet falls off its stand.

"What do you mean?" Logan is the picture of innocence and she hates that look on him. Veronica prefers him snarky and just this side of evil.

"It's like you're following me. I'm in Neptune, you're in Neptune. I'm in New York, you're in New York."

"I could say the same thing to you, really. Why aren't you home with your dad?" Something about the way he asks makes her think he already knows the answer.

"Why are you here?" She demands, ignoring his question.

"I'm working," he gestures towards his tablet. "You?"

"Coffee break. I'm studying."

"On Christmas Eve?"

"You're working on Christmas," she pointed out.

"I don't have a family to spend it with."

_I don't either_, she thinks but doesn't say it. "Stop following me," she says, feeling idiotic.

"You wanna sit?" Logan asks.

"No," she says with absolutely no conviction in her voice. Logan does his best to hide his smirk.

"You sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Why would I wanna sit with you?"

"To talk?"

"We don't talk, we fight," Veronica is exasperated and turned on. She hopes he thinks her flushed cheeks are just windburned from the single digit weather.

"Did you get my gift?"

"Merry Christmas, Logan," Veronica picks up her coffee and leaves. She gets no studying done because she can't concentrate and keeps thinking about his lips. When her dad arrives, she spends three days working up to asking him why Logan is in New York.

"I didn't know he was," Keith replies and Veronica hates that she can't tell if he's lying.

* * *

2014

Veronica hates her job. She hates her job and she hates New York and she wonders why she didn't go to law school in Florida so she could get a job somewhere sunny, hopefully with a pleasant boss.

Instead, she's got another cold-it's always freezing in the law office she works at, especially at night when all the first-years are working their butts off and the heat is turned off. Her boss is a pervert, so much so that she's started buttoning her blouses higher than she finds attractive or comfortable because he made such efforts to look down them. Lena, another first year, commented that Veronica didn't even have very big boobs so why was Rick so intent to stare at them?

The only flight Veronica could get was on Christmas Eve, so she bundles up and sucks on Halls through the entire flight to keep her coughing at bay. People glare at you when you cough in public, and it's even worse on an airplane.

It's abnormally warm in California this year and Veronica wishes she could stuff her coat in a locker at the airport so she doesn't have to carry it. By the time she's rescued her suitcase off the carousel, her nose has stopped running and she's not coughing at all. It's a Christmas miracle, she thinks sarcastically. The only good thing about being sick would've been hiding out in her bedroom.

She doesn't recognize her dad's house when the cab drops her off. That's another sore subject-Keith was _Just! So! Busy!_ getting Christmas dinner ready, that he suggested Veronica just take a cab from the airport and see him and meet Delena back at the house. Veronica is pissed once because she has to take a-very expensive-cab home from the airport on Christmas Eve, and pissed a second time because instead of spending the evening with her father, she has to tolerate his new girlfriend _and_ meet her family.

Veronica stands on the porch, annoyed. She hasn't dug out her keys yet, and as the cab driver takes off, she's pissed she didn't just tell the driver to keep going until he hit the beach. Or a cliff. She's flexible at this point.

She and Keith always favored kind of tacky, Walmart-style Christmas decorations. This year, his house is decked out with elegant, warm white icicle lights and white trees. No color anywhere. The wreath on the door has bells but no ornaments or bows. When she finally lets herself in, there's no jingling-the strand of bells they used to put on the doorknob is gone.

"Holy shit," she mutters when she enters. Everything is decorated and everything is _white_. The tree they always had when she was growing up is now an eight-foot, frosted white monstrosity with almost no ornaments on it. The only color is a string of holiday cards going across the fireplace.

"Oh," a woman comes in from the kitchen and immediately forces a smile. "You must be Veronica."

"Were you expecting someone else?" Veronica knows she's being rude, and she doesn't care. She is just not in the mood for niceties.

"Your dad just ran to the store for me," Delena dries her hands on the towel she's holding-white of course-and Veronica realizes two things:

Delena doesn't introduce herself, offer to shake Veronica's hand or make any other moves to seem welcoming.

Delena is clearly living there and her father didn't tell her.

She tells the woman-who looks nothing like what she pictured-that she needs to unpack and take a nap. She finds "her" room overrun with junk mail, her dad's ships in a bottle and many of his fishing-themed decor items. There's also a large box on the bed. It's wrapped in purple poinsettia paper and she knows without looking at the tag that it's from Logan.

Veronica thinks about whether or not she wants to open it. She's got the last two presents with her, intending to add them to the pile in the closet.

She thinks about what it would mean if she opened them.

She wonders if he's in Neptune, if he's talked to her dad, if he hates Delena as much as she does.

Veronica has already decided to be too jet lagged for dinner with Delena's family and flops on her bed. The blanket is different now, and kind of itchy. Shoes flung across the room, blanket kicked off, she grabs her phone and does the stupidest thing she can possibly think of.

She calls Logan.

"Merry Christmas," is how he answers her call. He sounds normal-like they haven't basically ignored each other-okay she's ignored him-for the past eight years.

"Nothing merry about this year," she sits up, ready to vent and not caring that it's Logan on the other end of the phone instead of Wallace. She can't call Wallace though, because love is apparently in the air this year, and he's spending Christmas with his girlfriend's family. He's also bought her a ring, but Veronica doesn't like to think about _that_.

"Why, what's wrong?" Logan sounds genuinely concerned, and a teeny, tiny part of Veronica wishes they were having this conversation face to face with a lot of wine and some really good ice cream.

"Well, my dad has a new girlfriend, for starters."

"I know. Delena."

"What kind of name is that?"

"Old French," Logan answers.

"Why do you know this?"

"I thought it was Latin, but she doesn't look Latin, so I looked it up."

Veronica thinks that is extremely weird, but her calling Logan on Christmas Eve is also extremely weird so she lets it go. "When did you meet her?"

Logan is quiet for a minute. "Thanksgiving."

Veronica takes a deep breath to stop herself from exploding. "My dad didn't tell me."

"I'm not surprised."

"I already hate her. She lives here."

"I know."

"Why do you know everything?"

"Why don't you?" he counters.

Veronica ignores this. "Why is it quiet where you are?"

"What do you mean? I'm home. I muted the TV when I saw it was you calling."

"You're home?"

"Yes."

"Alone?"

"Yes."

"On Christmas Eve?"

"Yes," Logan sounds annoyed this time. "Wanna come over?"

Yes. "No," she says too quickly. "No. Definitely not. Absolutely not. No."

"So yes?"

"I don't have a car here, I'll have to get an Uber."

"I'll send my driver," Logan says, and Veronica realizes she doesn't know anything about his life now. "Be waiting outside in twenty minutes or Delena will make him come in, feed him, and you'll never get out of there."

Veronica wonders why he knows this and when that happened, but she hangs up the phone to grab a quick shower and change.

* * *

Keith is back from the store when Veronica emerges from the bedroom in a red off-the-shoulder sweater and black jeans. She's traded her professional looking Coach bag for the studded one she carried in college, mostly because it's the only other purse she could find in a hurry. She gives him a quick hug and tells him she's meeting Mac for drinks and will be back late. She decides to shelf the fact that he looked relieved about her missing dinner until the next morning.

Logan's driver is a friendly man named Rodney who offers to turn down the Christmas music or mute the backseat if she would prefer. He tells her where the controls for the air conditioning are located and to buzz him if she needs anything. After telling Rodney to crank up the Pentatonix he's listening to, Veronica sits back and thinks that she already kind of likes Rodney, that this car probably cost as much as her entire law school tuition, and that she is a total idiot for agreeing to see Logan in the first place.

The door to Logan's house opens as Rodney pulls into the drive. Logan lives in a gated community, of course, and she's surprised to see that his house looks nothing like the mega mansions they drive past on their way.

Veronica gets out of the car before Rodney can open her door, thanks him, wishes him a Merry Christmas and then takes a deep breath. Wonders what the hell she's doing there. Meets Logan's eyes for the first time.

He's watching her carefully, trying not to grin, but Veronica can see it in his eyes. She walks up his light-adorned porch-colored lights, the big old fashioned kind she loves-and smiles at him.

"I would've thought a place this small would be the staff quarters," she teases him.

"Rodney lives above the garage," he nods in that direction. "My maid has her own place, so I didn't really see a need for a staff quarters."

"So you just moved into it yourself?"

"There are five bedrooms in this place, Veronica," Logan holds the door open and she enters. Veronica didn't know what she expected, but in a lot of ways, this was it. The wood is all dark and warm, and Logan has a small tree in one corner, with a few presents underneath it.

"Doesn't look like Santa's been here," she sets her purse on the floor and turns to face him. It surprises her that he's standing so close, and she tries to avoid his gaze. "Guess you've been bad this year."

"I bought myself a Maserati," he says, shrugging. "So I really don't need a visit from Santa this year."

Veronica bites her lip and turns to look at the tree again. She doesn't know what she's doing here. She doesn't know why she agreed to come.

She doesn't know why his lips aren't on hers right this very minute.

"Why'd you invite me?" she finally asks, still looking at the tree.

Logan comes to stand in front of her. He pushes a strand of hair gently behind her ear and studies her for a minute. "I missed you. I wanted to see you."

"What a line," Veronica mutters, and she moves to sit on the couch on the other side of the room. Logan sits opposite her on the couch and turns his body towards her.

He looks _nervous_. Veronica has no idea what to make of that, and it makes her more nervous than she already was.

After a minute of awkward silence, Logan says, "Corporate law? Really?"

"Does it help my case that I hate it?"

"No, because you chose it."

She rolls her eyes, staring at the ceiling for a second. It's a cathedral ceiling, and it's gorgeous.

"I like your house," she says, even though it's a lame thing to say and she knows it.

"Thanks. I designed it."

Veronica laughs. "Okay."

"I did," Logan looks a bit hurt and she instantly feels bad. "You'd know that if you ever opened your Christmas presents."

Veronica gets up to stare out the window at the beach. Logan walks up to her and unlatches the door-she didn't even realize there was a patio there, she was so distracted. They walk outside and she leans on the railing looking at the water.

"You're an architect," she says finally, looking at him.

"You and your dad talk less than you and I do, huh?"

"It's not that, but there's….work and school and girlfriends I don't like…." she shakes her head. "We just don't have a lot of time so it's basically you're still alive, you don't need money, have a good night."

"That's sad," Logan has inched closer to her, and Veronica realizes she's looking at his lips rather than his face.

"Sad how?"

"You guys were so close. I don't know if it's the distance, or time-"

"Or the girlfriends I haven't liked?" she guesses, but they both know that's the majority of the problems between her and her father. "The idea of having dinner tonight with my dad and Delena and _her_ family….I just couldn't do it."

"I'm glad you called me," Logan is right beside her now, and before she realizes it's happening, they're kissing.

"Oh shit," Veronica pulls away and leans into Logan's chest, embarrassed. "I shouldn't have done that."

"What, have I lost my touch?" Logan teases, but she hears worry in his voice.

"No, definitely not that," she flushes a bit. "I've had a cold. I don't want to get you sick."

"Veronica," Logan runs his hand down the side of her face before tilting her chin up so she has to look at him. "I'd risk malaria to kiss you again."

They kiss until they're breathless and Veronica realizes her sweater is exposing way more than her shoulders. She pulls Logan back into the house, and he spins her around like he always used to before kissing her again.

"Show me your bedroom," Veronica whispers against Logan's chest.

"Maybe one of the guest rooms, there's a hooker in there wearing a Santa suit and-"

Veronica smacks him playfully. "Ha ha ha. Come on, show me."

"Are you sure?"

"Did you think I came over here to see your ocean view?" she asked.

"I thought you came because you wanted to see me."

"I do. I want to see you in your bedroom."

"Veronica," Logan gently kissed her forehead. "Wait."

"Please tell me there's not really a hooker in the bedroom."

"No," he pulled her towards the couch. "Sit down for a sec."

"I didn't come over to talk," Veronica muttered. She straightens her sweater and sits next to Logan, folding her arms across her chest.

"I don't think a fling is a good idea."

Veronica glances at his crotch. "Little Logan says otherwise."

Logan groaned. "I hate when you call it that."

She smiled sweetly at him. "That's why I do it."

"Why do you think I email you every week? Why do I still send you presents? Keep in touch with your dad? I love you, Veronica. I don't wanna be the guy you rebound fuck."

"Rebound? I'm not seeing anyone!"

"You know what I mean. You ignore me for years, get mad at your dad and now you want me?"

"I always want you!" Veronica stands up, angry at Logan now. "I've wanted you since the day I left. I've wanted you since high school! I thought putting a whole country between us would change things."

"How'd that work out?" Logan tried to hide his smirk.

"What do you want from me, Logan? You want me to say I wanna be with you and I'm gonna leave my job and my apartment and live here with you?"

"I want you to want to try."

"From opposite ends of the country?" She cried incredulously.

"I never said that."

"You lost me."

"When do you have to be back in New York?"

"January fourth. Court is in session on the fifth."

"So try until then," Logan took her hands in his. She stopped pacing and stood in front of him, annoyed at how even when she was standing and he was sitting, she still felt short.

"Spend time with me here, at your dad's, whatever you want. And not just in the bedroom."

"We wouldn't be in the bedroom at my dad's," she made a face. "Although I don't think he'd notice with Delena there."

"I wasn't finished," Logan said, pulling her gaze back to his. "Spend this time with me, and we'll figure it out when you go back."

"What does that mean, figure it out?"

"I could move to New York," Logan suggested. "If you want me to."

"Logan, that's crazy! You have a job here, and a house, and a life!"

"I don't have a life," he said quietly. "Not without you."

Veronica plopped back down next to him. "Logan…"

"And I can design customized homes anywhere. It's freelance work, mostly word of mouth and girls Dick shows this place to."

Veronica suddenly felt nauseous. "Dick brings girls here?"

"No, he shows them photos and tells them it's his place and it's being fumigated. Last I knew, that lie had gotten him five chicks and gotten me three jobs."

"Nice to know he hasn't changed," Veronica said dryly.

"Veronica," Logan laced his fingers with hers. "Do you wanna try?"

She didn't trust her voice, but she really wanted to—God she wanted to, she had missed him so much—so she just nodded.

Logan leaned over and kissed her again.

Veronica grinned at him. "Do I get to see your bedroom now?"

* * *

2015

"Be right back," Logan pulled his coat off the hook on the wall.

"Where are you going?" Veronica asked, panicked. Logan wasn't dressed and he still needed to put the leaf into their dining room table. She hated to admit it but she couldn't do it herself. She hadn't even wanted a dining room but Logan had said it would come in handy, and as usual, he was right.

"Ice," he answered her. "We need ice. I'll be back in five." He gave her a quick peck on the cheek and was out the door.

Veronica sighed and gave the living room a final look. It was the first room their guests would see when they entered and she wanted it to look…..well not perfect, but really nice.

Their tree was lit with color-changing lights. The same lights adorned each window and the garland on the fireplace. Logan had put a drinks cart in one corner of the room and Christmas music played from various speakers set around the apartment.

They'd been in this apartment in New York almost a year, and Veronica had to admit that it didn't feel weird. It would've been completely out of her price range, but Logan insisted he could cover it. She hadn't wanted it to be his place, she'd wanted it to be their place, but when he'd showed her the view from the balconies-that's plural-she'd given in and let him get it for them. Plus, Veronica had grown a lot less resistant to Logan paying for things when she saw the size of the residual checks from his parents. And the starting figures on his design contracts made her kinda dizzy.

The apartment they shared in New York was a compromise. It was in a nice, keycard-enabled building (his insistence) but it wasn't a penthouse (her insistence). She had quit the corporate firm she'd hated upon returning from her Christmas in Neptune, and with Mac's help had found an amazing non-profit firm that focused on domestic violence and financial abuse cases. She actually kind of loved this job and figured it didn't matter that her checks were smaller than their rent because she was _happy_. Veronica went into the kitchen and double checked everything. Due to her work schedule, she'd decided to let Dean and Deluca cater their dinner and had only made the desserts. Trays of cookies were laid out on a table in the dining room and cheesecake was in the fridge. Veronica grabbed a whisk, stirred the sauce for the hot chocolate cake she'd baked that morning and looked at her watch. She had an hour before their guests started to arrive.

Veronica was secretly thrilled that Logan had taken charge this holiday season and decided that since it was their first Christmas in their first apartment, they would be having the holiday just the two of them, but their friends and family were welcome at their holiday party on December nineteenth. She was shocked when her dad informed her that he was coming. He was bringing Delena—they'd gotten engaged over the summer—but she wouldn't let that dampen her good mood.

Wallace was coming with his fiancée, Shae, and Veronica was excited to spend more time with her. They'd gotten into the city earlier in the week and the two couples had had dinner together, but it was an early night because Veronica had to work the next day. Sometimes she was envious that the freelance nature of Logan's work didn't keep him on a set schedule, but then she'd come home after a fourteen hour day to dinner ready on the stove, and she quickly got over it.

They were happy in New York and Veronica was pretty sure she wanted to stay. They'd agreed a year ago—on New Year's Eve of all nights—to try New York for a year and see what they thought. If it wasn't working, they'd consider moving to Neptune, or at the very least, San Diego.

They hadn't really discussed it since—they were saving that for _this_ New Year's—but a few mornings ago, Logan had smiled at her over breakfast and told her, "I'm so happy," before kissing her. Their decision was all but made. Maybe Logan would buy them the apartment when the lease was up. Veronica would hate to lose it.

Logan came back then, with two bags of ice and a pint of snickerdoodle ice cream from the gelato parlor around the corner. He shoved everything in the freezer and grabbed the whisk out of her hands, licking it.

"Logan, I'm not done with that!"

"Mmm, that's good," he licked the chocolate off his lips. "We have other whisks," he licked it again before setting it in the sink.

"Go change," she ordered, just wanting him out of her kitchen.

"You're not dressed," he whined.

"I don't want to get chocolate on my dress."

"I'm stealing a cookie on my way," he said as he left.

"I would expect nothing less."

* * *

The party had been a huge success and Veronica was happy and exhausted. She was still wearing her green velvet dress but had taken her tights and heels off after the last of their guests departed. Logan brought a stack of dishes from the dining room into the kitchen and placed them on the counter.

"Dishwasher's full," Veronica said, turning it on. "We'll get the rest tomorrow."

"You mean I will. You made plans with Mac before she leaves, remember?"

"That's not til noon," she protested.

"And you'll sleep til eleven-thirty," he teased. Logan took the snickerdoodle ice cream out of the freezer. "Your dad seems happy."

"I don't wanna talk about my dad," she got out the SaranWrap and began wrapping up what was left of the cheesecake.

"Shae seems great."

"Yeah, she does. I don't think I'd wanna go up against her in court."

Logan laughed. "You could take her."

Veronica sucked the chocolate off her thumb. "What did you think of Trina's boyfriend?"

Logan looked up from the cookies he was putting in Pyrex containers with Christmas designs on them. "I was so shocked she came, I didn't notice him at first."

"Ian, right?"

"Yeah, I think. He seemed kinda…."

"Normal?"

"Yeah. I don't expect he'll be around long."

They put the rest of the leftovers away quickly and took the ice cream and two spoons to bed.

Veronica plopped down on top of the covers, still in her dress. "I think I'm too tired to change."

"Are you too tired for ice cream?"

"I'm never too tired for ice cream."

Logan took his clothes off and got into bed in just his boxers. Veronica didn't know how he stood that—she froze in New York weather and often slept in flannel pjs.

She snuggled against him and took the spoon he offered her. "Mmmm," she said after a bite. "This ice cream is amazing. Even better than—"

"Please don't say sex," Logan closed his eyes and threw his head back.

"I was gonna say it's even better than Amy's."

"Oh," he smiled at her. "Yeah, it is."

It wasn't New Year's, it wasn't even Christmas yet, but Veronica wanted to tell Logan something. She ate a few more bites of ice cream and put her spoon in the container.

"You're done?" Logan touched the back of his hand not holding the ice cream to her forehead. "Are you feeling ok?"

"I love you," she blurted out. "I just wanted you to know that."

"I do," he said quietly after a minute. She'd mentioned "wanting" him and "needing" him but this was the first time she'd actually said the words. Logan told her he loved her all the time—seven plus years to make up for, he reminded her when she rolled her eyes—and she always responded with "Me too". He figured he would never actually hear her say the words.

"Good," she pulled the comforter over her legs. "I'm gonna wrinkle the hell out of this dress. I'll never be able to wear it again."

Logan felt like he was floating on air. He set the ice cream on the nightstand, turned the lamps off and wrapped an arm around Veronica. "I'll buy you a new one."

He couldn't see Veronica, but he still knew she rolled her eyes at him. "Good night, Rockefeller."

Logan felt her head move onto his chest and he kissed her hair. "Good night, Bobcat."

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

I have received many, many messages about the presents from Logan. I do intend to explain that in another story, but I doubt I'll have it done until NEXT Christmas! But eventually I'll share it :D


End file.
